An evening wth Mr Yin
by Krypticmessage
Summary: When Shawn and Gus find a dead guy at an auction, it's the work of a serial killer calling himself 'Mr Yin.' Now Shawn must race against the clock to save the next victim...which could very likely be him! Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Going Once..going twice...dead!

Chapter One

'dance til you just can't daaaaance!" I sang at the top of my lungs with the music.

"Shawn, knock it off." I swung my head to Gus.

"Why, Guster, I thought you said you loved this song."

"I hate this song, Shawn."

"Then you love my singing."

"I am convinced your singing is why the suicide rate increased over the past twenty-nine years."

"Why are you such a grumpy pants today?"

"Nothing." He frowned, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Come on. you can tell me."

"No, I can't, Shawn. You'll just laugh. Or try to help, which is worse."

I could tell he wanted me to drag it out of him, so I did. "Come on. Please?"

"Did Shawn Spencer just say please?" He laughed. "That's a first."

I decided being Mr. Nice Guy wasn't going to work, so I tried a different tactic. "If you don't tell me, I'll dig out the Queen album and you'll be hearing Bohemian Rapsody Shawn Style all the way to ...where ever we're going."

"Alright, i'll tell you. Just don't start singing Cher." He groaned. "My girlfriend was supposed to come with me...and she cancelled last minute. No big deal."

"Woa,woa,woa. I'm the one with the last minute cancellation girlfriends. No woman ever dumps the Gusman last minute!" I was outraged.

"Don't call me that."

"What?"

"Gusman. I hate that nickname, I've hated it since first grade, Shawn."

"Sor-ry! So...what's her name?"

"Claire."

"Nice, nice. Where'd you meet her?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Come on!"

'No!"

"Chess club?"

No!"

"Ballet class?"

"Shawn, for the last time, that ballet class happened years ago. Once. To meet girls. And it worked!I had four girls ask if I could take them to Prom."

"Okay I give up. "

"She is a saleswoman at my real job."

"You mean the job you almost lost, but thanks to me, you got a promotion at?"

"Yes, Shawn."

"Where are we going? I'm starved."

" We're going to an art auction, Shawn. I expect you to be on best behavior."

"Aren't I always?"

I looked around the crowded room. A lot of stuffy old ladies and young couples where there. Gus and I were in the front row, staring at a painting of a cat. At least, I think it was a cat. I honestly could not tell. I didn't know why Gus wanted to go to an art auction, but I didn't protest. The whole girlfriend cancelling thing and made him go into I'll-bite-your-head-off-mode.

I continued looking around at the faces. I saw another young couple across from us ion the other aisle. I knew them from somewhere...

"Gus!" I hit his arm.

"What?" He swiveled to me.

"Look over there. See that couple?"

"Yeah...."

"Do they look familiar to you?"

He squinted. "Yeah they do..."

I looked again. "OH my god."

"What? Who are they?"

"It's Jules and Lassie in civvies! AND Jules is wearing a dress! With heels!"

"What are they doing here?"

"And why are they sitting so close?"

"They're partners, Shawn. They probbably undercover."

"Nu-unh. Look. She's smiling at him!"

"Shawn, let it go?"

I tried to ignore them, but I couldn't.

"Next, we have a Pennslyvania Dutch Hope Chest, crafted in the late 1600's, early 1700's. Who will give me 10,000?"

"I have 10,000. Who will give me 15?"

I stifled a yawn. Then I saw Gus stiffen.

"What is it?"

"There she is." He sighed.

I saw a coaco skinned woman with long dark hair on the stage.

"That's Claire?"

"Yep."

"She works here too?"

"Yep."

I realized why Gus had been so adhement about coming. And she was pretty. Not really my type, but pretty.

"Going once, going twice, sold for 20,000 dollars. "

I say two burly men lift the chest. One suddenly dropped his end. The chest crashed to the ground, popping open. There were screams.

Inside was a very, very, dead guy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"There is still some question, Mr. Spencer, as to how you 'knew' there was going to be a murder, and yet you didn't notify anyone at the station about this 'theory' beforehand." Chief Vick said in a dry tone.

"But, Chief, the spirits weren't crystel clear, and I didn't want to cause a fracus....fracus. That's a fun word. Fracus."

"MR. SPENCER!" Chief breathed out slowly. "All argument aside, are you getting any...readings?"

The auction had been delayed, to say the least, as it had turned into a full scale crime scene.. Everyone was being questioned, the ytellow tape was strung, everything. I looked around casually. "I need time, Chief. The spirits are especially sensitive today."

"Well, they better get un-sensitive, and fast. Do you know who the victim is?" Her tone showed her blatent sarcasim in the first statement, and changed drastically in the second. It was almost like she was scared.

"The spirits haven't blessed me with that knowledge, no." I really had to play this act to the hilt.

"His name is Victor Walkers."

"Judge Walkers?" Gus asked.

"The same. The DA is getting on my backside to make sure this case is solved. And fast. Mr. Spencer, anything you want, you got. I just need you to wrap this up as quickly as possible. O'Hara and Lassiter are on the scene, so feel free to work with them. I really don't have to tell you that this is a very delicate case, so tread with caution, okay?" She sounded desparate, almost as desparate as the time she almost lost her job.

"Will do, Chief. I need to feel out the suspects. I mean that in the most appropriate way, I assure you."

She rolled her eyes. "You can question the suspects after O'Hara and Lassiter are finished. You are not to disturb them while thier questioning people, understood?"

"Totally and completely." Gus answered her, pulling me away.

"Shawn, I've been meaning to tell you something for a while, and this isn't this best time to tell you, but there is no real way around it."

"Gus, I can't hear this right now."

"Huh?"

"Gus, whatever happened between you and Clarese-."

"Claire."

"Claire, is none of my buisness."

"This isn't about Claire. It's about your father."

"Gus, what ever happened between you and my fat- My FATHER?!?! WHat baout him?"

"He's....sort of back on the force for a couple weeks."

"What?!?"

"All I know from reading your text message was that the SBPD asked him to fill in as a senior advisor for a couple weeks."

"Okay, one You read my text messages?"

"Reguraly."

"And two, you are telling me this why?"

"Because he's standing right there."

I whirled around.

"Sweet Home Alabama!"

He was in full uniform, complete with gun. It brought back sudden, sharp memories of the 1980's.

He was standing next to Lassie, asking him something. Jules was nowhere to be found.

I turned back to Gus. "What do I do now?'

"Just...act like yourself."

"Isn't it "act natural'?"

"You aren't natural."

"Shawn!" I heard Jules shout.

"Jules! What were you doing here?"

She pulled up short. "Huh?"

"You were here earlier, with Lassiter. Why?"

She looked confused. "How'd you...."

"I know."

She smiled. "Are you jealous?"

"Of course not!" I sputtered.

"If you must know, we had a tip that there was going to be an art theft today. Lassiter and I were here to make sure that didn't happen."

"Well, congrats!l There was no theft, only murder." I had been looking around all this time. I can't possibly discribe what I saw.....okay, I could and will.

The dead guy had what appeared to be blue paint on his right hand. There was a spatter of paint on his shirt and tie as well. Two, this guy had a strange resemblance to someone, but I couldn't place who. I saw a very distrought woman in a shocking green outfit push her way to the man.

"Jason! Jason!" She sobbed, bringing a kerchief-another fun word-to her eyes. I saw the flash of a wedding ring. He turned to a slender woman that had accompanied her.

"Shh....shh....it's okay,Mom." The woman soothed, tears in her eyes.

I felt ashamed eves-dropping on them. I turned to Gus. He wasn't there.

"Gus?" I whirled around. "Gus?"

I spotted him talking to Lassiter and Pops. If Dad was working this case, I was sooooo dead. Chief Vick had already assigned this case to me under no uncertain terms.

I pasted on a smile and took up my favorite Lassie face.

"Binky!" I draped my arm around his shoulder and grinned. "What's up?"

"Get your gay hands off me, Spencer." He gritted. "And I told you if you called me Binky again I'd shoot you. I wasn't kidding."

"Okay, first, I'm soooo not gay. I'm not I'm not I'm not!" I faked sobs here. "And second, what do you have against Binky?"

"That is a reserved nickname from when I was little-why am I talking to you again?"

"Because I'm your bestest friend in the world?"

He stared at me for a very long time. "You know how many times I wake up in the morning and have to say 'today I will not kill Spencer. Today I will not shoot Spencer.' ?"

I removed my arm. The joke was going too far anyway. I didn't want Abs to think I was gay...that would put a damper on our next date.

"Dad." I nodded at him. I noticed that through the exchange between Lassie and me he didn't even smile, while Jules and Gus were trying not to laugh and failing miserably. Especially Jules.

"Shawn, can I talk to you for a second?" He grabbed my arm and hauled me away.

"Shawn, when are you going to learn?'

"Dad, it's just Lassie!" I grinned. "The big softie wouldn't shoot me-" I broke off. He had shot two guys in front of me at very close range....and hadn't thought twice about it. Hmmmm.

"This time it's just Lassie- LASSITER. But one day you will push the wrong buttons on the wrong person and you'll get hurt." He stared at me like he actually cared. It was touching.

'Dad, I'll be fine. I can read people you know."

"I do know. Just don't read them wrong."

To change the subject, I asked "So why are you back on the force?"

"Just for a week. I sent you a text message."

"I heard."

"You heard?"

"Apparently, Gus reads my texts. "

Dad chuckled. "Figures."

"Anyway-"

I was cut short by the young widow collapsing in my arms. I am not exaggerating. She walked up to me, then pitched forward. Being a nice guy -plus it's instinct- I grabbed her before she fell. Her daughter came racing up.

"Mom?"

"I'm fine, Celeste." She said weakly.

"You can let go of my mother now." Celeste said in a threatening voice.

"CELESTE! Where are your manners?" The widow stood up.

"Shawn Spencer, psychic, at you service." I did a sweeping low bow. I have to agree with Gus, you can learn a lot at a Rennissonce Fair, including how to make dashing bows.

"Alva Walkers." Her eyes welled up again. "My....my husband..."

Lassiter , Dad, and Gus seemed more then happy to let me take care of this one. Let me explain :

**Mrs**. Walkers was wearing a rather lowcut dress, even though she's in her 40's if she's a day.

She was obviously distrought about her husband's death, but not so distrought that I hadn't caught her smiling at McNab in a flirty way, which freaked the poor kid out. He practically begged Lassie (who he treats as his boss half the time) to go get his coffee. He didn't have to beg too hard. Lassie seriously needs a coffee intervention.

She also had just tried to flirt in a weird way by throwing herself at me. I get that problem alot, but not from 40 year old women who have been widowed in the last four hours.

And that is why every other male on scene was trying very hard to ignore her. Her behavior was odd, to say the least.

"Well, Mrs. Walkers, I want you to know that SBPD is doing everything in their power to bring your husband's killer to justice." I said, mimicing what Jules always said.

Where was Jules anyhow? I turned to her. She had her eyes narrowed and it was apparent what she thought of Mrs. Walkers. Let my give you a hint: i stars with S and rhymes with glut.

"Mrs. Walkers, I think it's best for you to go home. We'll ask our questions at a better time." Jules said, in a clipped manner. "I'm sure you have to mourn your husband for a while."

I think I was the only one who heard her add 'with the gardner.' under her breathe. I choked on my Gatorade. Ahh...sweet Gatorade.

"Yes, thank you." She dabbed her eys again, smiled at me tearfully and staggered away, leaning on Celeste.

"Odd family." Lassiter commented to no one in particular.

"Very." Jules agreed. Dad was writing down something in his notepad. Gus had gone to find Claire. I went to go find him.

As I turned down a dead end hall, trying to figure out where Claire and Gus were, I saw a glimmer of metal. I ducked a split second before a samurii sword sailed into the wall an inch from where my head was. I heard a woman scream, but it was as if it was underwater. My eyes were huge, I know. I felt the blood drain oout of my face.

McNab was laying right where I ducked down, gun drawn, bleeding from a wound in his chest. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. He was still alive. I found my voice and started yelling for help.

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~Twenty minutes later~

"The doctors say McNab is going to be fine. His wife's with him." A detecive whos name I could not place informed us.

"Thank God." Jules breathed. I looked down at my hands. They still had blood on them from where I apparently tried to stop the bleeding. I didn't remember after I yelled for help up until now. It was all a fog.

"Spencer, did you see anyone or anything?" Lassie was asking.

"No, just the sword a second before it landed in the wall." I sighed and continued. 'I ducked, and when I did, I saw McNab in the shadows."

"Who would want to shoot poor McNab?" Jules asked. " And who would want to kill Shawn?'

"Oh, come on, O'hara! Narrow it down please!" Lassie said. "Who wouldn't want to kill Spencer?"

Jules smacked him with her elbow. "Take it back."

"I will not."

She raised her notebook like she had a lethal wepeon. "Take. It. Back."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, there was a note on the sword." Jules said. "On it was written :Three men shall die today, and three every other day until I am satisfied. My demands will be met. I'll call you" She sighed. "It's signed Mr. Yin."

"What?" Lassie and I exploded at the same time. It was still fresh in all our minds that horrific evening with mr. Yang.

"We have a copycat serial killer on the loose."

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A/N Well, there you have it!! And BTW: pleae vote for the title of this Fanfic:

Going Once, Going Twice, Dead!

Or :An Evening with Mr. Yin.

Vote in review or PM form. Either one.

Thanks for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I drummed my fingers against the seat. I had been forcibly pulled into the car by Jules. She and Lassie were goping to interview McNab, since he was awake.

There are very few times I am scared. Okay, I've only been scared a couple of times; really, really scared. The first was the whole undead mummy thing when I was eight. And then I was scared when Mr. Yang had my mother. And I was scared now. But I couldn't let that show. I was going to find this guy..or girl...that was out to kill these men.

"We're here!" Jules said, a little too perkily. I sighed. I had a feeling this was not going to be a fun question period.

I was sooooo right. The nurse took one look at Lassie's scowl and told him to bug off. Okay, she used stronger language then that. And then the elevator was broken and we had to walk up three flights of stairs. By the time we even got to Buzz's room, we were out of breath, agitated and frustrated. This was not going to go well.

We knock ed on the door quietly.

"Come in." We heard McNab say.

"Hey, man, you okay?" I said, being the first one in. He looked bad. Very bad. But I didn't tell him that.

"As well as can be expected." He shrugged. "I got shot in the shoulder. How okay am I suppossed to be?"

"Spencer, shut up." Lassie growled. I rolled my eyes at him and set my get well gift-a pineapple with a red bow- on the bedside table.

"McNab, we know you're tired, but can we ask you a few questions?" Jules, ever the diplomate, asked gently.

"Go ahead." He said weakly, closing his eyes.

"What happened, exactly? Can you remember?"

He was silent for a few seconds, then he began to speak. "I was trying to get away from that strange widow...she really creeped me out. She didn't act very grief-stricken to me. Anyway, I ducked down one of the halls to aviod her. I saw it was a deadend, so I turned around. I heard a shuffle, like someone shifted on thier feet. I saw the glint of a gun. I reached for my sidearm, but it was too late. I guess the gun had a silencer, because I didn't hear it go off. But I felt a burning pain in my chest. I guess that's what it feels like to be shot." He paused. "I wish I could say I wasn't scared, but I was terrified. The only thing I could think of was my wife." He stopped.

"Every one thinks of those closest to them when they get shot." Jules voice was quiet. It was as if she had experience in this area. "Thier spouses, thier parents and siblings, thier kids...thier partners, thier friends. I would know."

All three of us stared at Jules. McNab and I had disbelief in our eyes. Lassie had sympathy in his.

"I remember that night." His voice was low. "Worst night I ever spent."

"What?" McNab and I said at the same time.

"I was a rookie. Lassiter wasn't too happy about having...how'd you put it? A tender-footed newbie? Something like that, as his partner. My very first case was a smuggling case. We were down at the docks. One of the perps had a gun and used it. I didn't get out of the way fast enough. I spent three weeks in the hospital in a coma. When I woke up, I almost qiute the force. He wouldn't let me."

"Who? Lassie?"

"No. Dad." She frowned. "He knew I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I left. And he was right. I'm never sorry I stayed."

"I didn't know you'd been shot." I said quietly. "Where?"

She shook her head. "Later. We need more information if we're going to catch this 'Mr. Yin.' Now, can you tell us anything else?"

Back to busniess.

" I guess I passed out, because the next thing I know, Shawn here is telling me to hold on, helps coming, then I blacked out and woke up here."

"Could you see anything about the shooter?"

"I saw a little...the figure had a mask on, but the shoulders were really broad. I'd say it was a man, but I can't be sure. He was over 5 foot, though. If the gun was held at shoulder level, it was about 4 feet 6 inches of the floor. And it looked like he had a sword or something beside him. That's all I saw."

Jules patted his shoulder. "Good work. Chief would be proud."

His face brightened. "Really?"

"Really."

Just then a nurse came to tell us visiting hours were over. Lassie tried to tell her that this was police busniess. She told him that if he didn't leave, she would hual him out by his ears then box them. Her thick Scottish accent made the exchange even funnier. Long argument short, we left.

"I suggest we have another talk with Mrs. Walker." Jules said as we pulled out onto the road.

"I agree. There was something about her that didn't agree with me." Lassie said as he made a left.

"Does anything agree with you, Lassie? Name one person that agrees with you on anything and I'll be shocked." I piped up.

"Your father agrees with me that you're an annoying little pipsqueak that would be a waste of lead to shoot."

Ouch. Okay, I asked for that one. I was still hurt though, so the best I could come back with was kinda lame. "I'm glad to see pipsqueak used outside of nursing homes."

I caught both of them rolling thier eyes. We rode in silence the rest of the way to Mrs. Walkers place. Place? More like Palace. The house was huge, with about a billion rooms.

"Spencer, rememeber, she's grieving. Try not to mock her too badly." Lassie knocked on the door.

Mrs. Walker opened the door with a flourish. She was dressed in a eye-popping yellow low-cut blouse and skin tight sequined pants.

"Why, Detectives! Come on in!" She practically bounced into the house. We three shared a look before following her to the 'sitting room.'

She sprawled on the couch, scotch in one hand.

"Drink, anyone?"

"We''re on duty." Jules answered. "We know this is a bad time, but can we ask you some questions?"

"Go ahead, doll." Jules bristled. (Word to the wise, never call Jules doll. She hates it.)

"I noticed at the auction, you called your husband Jason, when, in fact, his name was Victor." I said, looking around the room. I saw a file sitting on the coffee table with two one way tickets to San Deigo sticking out of it. On the fireplace, there were three large framed photographs. All were of Celeste, none of the late Judge Walkers. On one wall there were faded places, showing where photos had been until recently. Looked like Mrs. Walkers was moving on fast.

"Oh, Jason was so vain. His fiull name was Jason Victor Walkers, but he thought Victor sounded more 'judge like.' Celeste and I called him Jason."

"Celeste called her father Jason?"

"Oh, Jason wasn't her father. Jason was my fourth husband. Her father left us for a ski instructer." She laughed bitterly. "Not that he was with her that long. They both died in a plane crash about a year ago."

Jules and I shot a glance at each other.

"Can you tell us if your husband had any enemies that come to mind?" Lassie continued, ever the workoholic.

"No. Everyone loved him. Except the people he sentenced, of course. But this is some serial killer, isn't it? Jason was just at the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Lassie coughed. "We're just trying to pursue all branches of theory, Ma'am. Why was your husband down at the auction, do you know?"

"Oh, he had been trying for years to get rid of that old hunk of wood he called a Hope Chest. Finally, he decided to auciton it off. He went down there with it this morning, and he....he never came home." Her eyes welled with tears on perfect cue. She grabbed a tissue from the end table. I noticed four long scratches in the wood.

"Do you have a dog, Mrs. Walkers?" I said. Besides you, I added silently.

"Why, no." She looked surprised. "Who are you, again? Oh, wait, your that psychic. I'm very into the spirit realm. I..don't suppose you...have a message from Jason for me?"

I thought fast and started twiching. "Why, yes, he says to tell you he loves you and not to cry for him, he's in a better place."

"Oh!" She poched her heart. "That means so much, Mr. Spencer. You have no idea." She smiled through tears as crocodile as her boots.

I stopped twiching. "Glad to relay the message, Ma'am."

Lassie's cell phone went off. "Lassie..I mean Lassiter." Good I had managed to trip him up. It had taken years, but he'd tripped up.

"I see." He hung up.

"That was the chief. Aparently, Mr. Yin found out two of his vitims were still alive and made up for them. We're needed at the morge."

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A/N Sorry, I ment for that to be longer, but I don't have any more time to write. R&R!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"The victims names are Tim Granfeld and Peter Korona." Chief Vick flicked a stand of hair back. "Granfeld was a young guitar player in a local band. He was walking home late from a practice and was attacked. There were no witnesses. He was found in West Maple Park by a jogger."

"What was cause of death?" Jules asked, jotting down notes.

"He was strangled with one of his own guitar strings. It was not pretty." Chief winced. "We have zip on Korona. His adress on his ID is bogus. Peter Korona is probably an alias anyway." She flipped a page on her clip board and gave a sad smile. "Granfeld was 19. Still a kid. He...wasn't dead when officers arrived on scene. He told them to tell his girlfriend he loved her."

Okay, slow down. I knew the first rule of police work was to not get emotional, just get revenge for the victims by bringing thier killers to justice. And yet, Chief Vick, one of the strongest people I know, is sitting there almost was slightly disturbing.

"Was there any connectiong between all three victims and Spencer and McNab?" Lassie said in a strange voice.

Chief flipped another page. "Way ahead of you, Detective. As a matter of fact, there was."

I was all ears.

"Granfeld was know for a short time as Mad Man Drummer-apparently he like Blinded By The Light- and he played at a birthday party which was also attended by Spencer. Judge Walkers was, in fact, a fishing pal to Spencer. McNab...well...McNab's Mcnab. It seems like everyone knows him. And Shawn...is Spencer's son."

It dawned on me that she was talking about my Dad.

"So you're saying that this guy is doing all this to get at my dad?" I snapped.

"There is a high probability." Chief said quietly. "And to make sure no more chances are taken, I want you two to have a 24 hour bodyguard. Detective?"

"I'll assign someone right away." Lassie said hastily.

"Oh no. I've assigned people to this already. Spencer isn't to be out of either yours or Cambell's sight. When you're not with one Spencer, you're with the other. Understood?"

Poor lassie. He looked like he swallowed a bag of prunes dipped in pickle juice with salt sprinkled on them. Trust me, I know how that tasts.

"Understood." Lassie said glumly.

He spun on his heel and strode out of the room.

"I have two rules, Spencer. Sit down and shut up, and do not touch my gun." He rolled his eyes. "Why do I bother? You'll just break those rules in two minutes."

Then he started mumbling under his breath. I couldn't hear most of it, but I had a feeling it wasn't Happy Birthday. Just then, a tall, muscular man came over to Lassie.

"This the target?"

"One of them. Spencer, Cambell. Cambell, Spencer. Cambell is a fine officer of the law and one of your gaurds. You will treat him with respect." Lassie's tone was threatening.

"Why would I not respect the man who made so many possibilites?"

"Huh?" The guy got a wierd look on his face.

"Cambell's? Chicken Noodle? Possiblites? Why do I even have to explain this joke to you again?" I snorted. "That ruins the whole point of a joke."

He shruged. "Sorry."

"SHAWN!" I heard a bellow I knew all too well.

"Dad!" I turned with a grin. "What brings you here this fine summer morning?"

"It's October 28th, Shawn. It's fall."

"Hmm. Aparently I forgot to change my calender. It's still good you're here. I need to ask you a couple things."

"I don't have time for this, Shawn, I have to report to my boss."

He began to walk away.

"Does the name Tim Granfeld mean anything to you?"

He stopped as if turned to stone. Slowly, he turned back to me.

"Yes, it does. Good kid. Played guitar at a party I was was good, so I started talking to him. Turns out he was trying to save up some money to put himself through Police Academy while supporting his mom and two sisters. His dad was a cop. Dang good one too. He got shot in the line of duty. I sort of mentered the kid for a couple months. Then, he just stopped coming for his tutoring sessions. Why?"

I sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.

" He's....umm....." I glanced around.

"He was the latest victim of Mr. Yin." Lassie said quietly. I had forgotten he was standing there. "Does the name Peter Korona mean anything to you as well?"

Dad looked ashen. "Uh...no. Sorry."

"And Judge Walkers?"

"Judge Walkers was a fine example of a man. The world would be a much better place if everyone was more like him."

"That's funny. I thought the world would be a much better place if everyone was more like Chuck Norris." I laughed. No one else did. I missed having Gus there. At least he would laugh.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, Dad. I need to talk to you in private?"

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

'What are we doing here, Shawn?"

" I need to talk to you without being overheard It's my office away from office."

"It's a broom closet." Dad sniffed. "That smells of moldy rags."

"It's a work in progress."

"Just get to the point."

"You're lying. And I want to know why." I folded my arms and glared at him. Funny, I remember this same thing in high school, only reversed.

"May I be struck by lightning for ever teaching you how to catch someone in the act of lying." He growled.

"Though I would dearly love to see you get struck by lighting, quit stalling."

"Okay, okay. Peter Korona was a close friend that went by another name. You might remember him? Davey Collins?"

I shook my heaad. It didn't ring a bell.

"Dr. Slie?"

It clicked. " The guy who came around late at night with little brown envolopes filled with pictures and account numbers?"

" If you mean informant, yes. That guy."

" So...you were connected to each one of the victims..." Something else clicked.

"Dad, did you ask to be put back on the force for a couple weeks?"

He twitched. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"And did you have something going down that Mr. Korona alerted you too? And maybe your old pal Judge Walker was in on the bust?"

"Slow down, Shawn. Pete did have something for me. I did ask to be put back on the force. But we were the only two that knew about didn't have anything to do with it."

"Okay, so what's this big secret Korona had?"

"He suspected that a man named Leo Friedberg was selling duplicate statues with drugs or other illegal susbstances in them. He alerted me because he knew how bad I had wanted to get my hands on Friedberg before I retired. I thought it would be a simple case, but it wasn't. Now three people I know are dead and one person I worked with was attacked...and you were almost killed. If I really am the cause of all this..." He trailed off. "I don't know what I'd do."

I was silent for once. If this wasn't the work of a serial killer, but someone targeting people Dad knew to get him off a case, I was in a totally new boat. A leaky one. With no paddles. Or life jackets.

"Shawn, promise me you'll be careful."

"Dad. when am I nevr careful?"

"When you ride your motercycle without a helmet. When you taunt Lassiter. When you smart off to a bad guy whos waving a gun in your -"

"Okay, okay! I get it!" I shook my head. "I'm going to need a list of people you know that may be targets. And all you have on this...Friedberg character."

Dad sighed. "Okay."

Lassie banged on the door. "What are you two doing in there? Reading _War and Peace_?"

I opened the door. " All done. The psychic properties in broom closets are very strong. Didn't you know that?"

He scowled. "I knew that the feeling to kill you is very strong pretty much anywhere. Now shut up and move. I have some investigating to do and Chief has laid down the law."

"Thank God. I heard it's very sleepy these days."

"Spencer." He glared.

"And while it's taking a nap, you better get it one of those white and red canes,too."

"Justice is blind, not the law." Lassie corrected. "And what am I even talking about?"

"You were telling me that Chief put the law to sleep like a cast-off dog."

"I said she laid down the law. She wants either Cambell or I to be with you 24/7"

"24 Minutes out of the next seven hours? That's not very good gaurding!"

"No, Shawn. 24 hours an day, seven days a week." He paused. "That sounds just as bad out loud. Now, come on!"

"Why can't I go with Cambell?"

"We flipped a coin-"

"You flipped a coin for me? I'm touched."

"-and I lost. Now move."

I was buckled in before I thought of asking something.

"Where are we going? Where's Jules?"

"She had a family emergency of some sort." He twitched.

"What? My psychic visions are telling me you are lying."

He frowned. "She just left a message that she had a family emergancy on my cell phone."

"Then why are you so worried?"

He shrugged. "I...we have a code word so that when we are uncohersed into leaving a message, it lets the other person know. She didn't say it. That usually means there's trouble or she was forced to leave that message."

"Then why aren't you looking for her?"

He glanced back over his shoulder. "I am."

'What?" "

"I'm supposed to be working on that serial killer case, but I'm going after her first."

"Oh yeah, about that case..."

Lassie started the engine really fast and pulled out like a NASCAR driver. He flipped me his cell phone.

"A text just came in. I bet it's from her."

I opened it and accesed his new texts. Most where prank texts from me. I occured to me he had me in his contacts. Wierd. But I saw the newest from Jules and opened it.

I swallowed. "You're not going to like this."

"Why? What does it say?"

" 'Hld hstge cnt gt awy mst rit fst sme srt of hotel. strts wth n t n hs a tre on logo. hlp me & fst.' "

"What the hell does that mean?" He hissed.

" Allow me to translate. 'Held hostage can't get away must write fast at some sort of hotel starts with T and has a tree on the logo. Help me and fast.' "

It sunk in.

"He has my partner." The voice was low. Threatening.

"I'm afraid so."

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A/N Sorry about the really long post. I haven't posted in a while, so don't hurt me! Hope you all are still reading.


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